The Book of Thoth
by sister silence
Summary: When the honeymoon bliss dies down, Rick and Evelyn return to Egypt to put the spark back into their marriage--but Evie's idea of excitement might just be dangerous to Rick's health (not to mention Jonathan's).
1. Pardon?

The Book of Thoth  
sister silence

(1927, London, England)

The American leveled a glare at the obstacle barring his way that was meant to shake the confidence of any opponent. Unfortunately, this particular locked door had no concept of self-preservation to speak of and so was not moved at all by this display of ferocity. It seemed that Richard O'Connell, the sometime soldier, dashing adventurer, and reluctant hero, was at last humbled by the mystery of one simple cherry-stained door. Not to be bested, however, Rick employed a desperate strategy, engulfing the door knob in one hand, slowly, cautiously, and with all the gravity of a man waiting for the axe to fall. Trying to shake the sensation of disaster breathing on his neck, he jiggled the handle futilely.

"Let it go, O'Connell," his brother-in-law advised sagely, not even bothering to stir from his careless sprawl on the sitting room couch. "She's not coming out."

Rick let an inaudible sigh escape his lips, but he lingered where he was just to prove that he hadn't fallen into the bad habit of listening to Jonathan. He began to shake the handle more violently, which eventually led him to rattling the entire door in its frame, and finally, rationally, to pounding on the wood with both fists. This proved no more successful than his other endeavors, though, and within minutes he abandoned his effort and leaned his full weight wearily against the door frame.

"Can't she hear me?" he vocalized his frustration.

"_I _bloody well can," Jonathan moaned as he turned onto his side, "and you're ruining my one chance at a decent nap."

Rick swiveled to face the Englishman, crossing his arms in the process. "I'd love to hear your reason as to why my house is a much more convenient place to attend to your beauty sleep than your own home."

Jonathan opened both his eyes wide, managing to look both mildly surprised and entirely like a cornered animal. "Yes, well, much more comfortable place you and missus have here, you see. Besides, mine is, ah, _occupied_ at the moment."

"'Occupied'," Rick rolled the word ominously in his mouth. "May I ask what sort of guests you're entertaining this time?"

"Oh, just some old friends. Nice chaps, but no one a respectable gentleman such as yourself would be interested in making the acquaintance of, O'Connell."

"Hmm," the sound rumbled forbiddingly in Rick's throat. "Since you've really been no help to me with the crisis at hand, I'd hate to deprive these 'nice chaps' of their gracious host any longer. It might just be time for you to go home, Jonathan."

Jonathan floundered, panic-stricken, and struggled to sit upright. "Now, now, Rick, let's not be too hasty. You never even gave me the opportunity to answer your question."

"I'm waiting."

Very deliberately, Jonathan took his time in resituating himself into a more comfortable position. "The fact of the matter is that she can hear you just fine, but she chooses not to."

"And why would that be?"

Jonathan's whole body moved in a shrug as he allowed his eyelids to slip closed. "How should I know? You're the one who married her; I'm only related by blood. I can't be expected to solve your marital problems."

"Try," Rick gritted between clinched teeth.

Jonathan opened his eyes into thin slits. "Mmm…All I can tell you is that she's always done things like this, ever since we were children. Whenever one of those ancient texts comes across her hands, she gets reclusive and she won't speak to a soul until she turns those bloody pictures into something resembling a real language."

"So," Rick drawled, "let me get this straight…She's in there…"

"Obviously."

"…and she's not going to speak to me until she's finished with this little project she didn't even bother to mention to me, her husband."

"Very astute. No wonder my baby sister chose you over everyone else."

Rick absorbed the barb along with the implications of the situation, and quietly simmered. He wasn't angry with Evie exactly, just irritated with her in a general fashion for ignoring him, for not thinking to share her new discovery with him, for putting him in this predicament. But mostly he was furious with himself for feeling so lost without her presence, for allowing himself to need anyone so desperately that he couldn't wait a day or three to see her. Nothing like this had ever taken hold of him before, and he wasn't so sure he was comfortable yet with this housecat role he was taking on.

At last, in his silent fuming, he stumbled upon the most eloquent phrase to express his rage, his frustration, his longing, his uneasiness: "Dammit."

"Pardon?" Jonathan demanded.

Rick settled his gaze on his brother-in-law, realizing he was about to do something incredibly stupid and that he no longer cared. Really, what would one little broken promise matter now? She'd probably never know.

"I said that I need a drink."

Jonathan's face brightened.

There were very few things in life that Richard O'Connell and Jonathan Carnahan managed to agree on, Evelyn being one, and the value of a good, stiff scotch in a tough spot being another. Undead mummies who abducted librarians and brought plagues of locust were, mysteriously enough, the third and final subject they were in accord on.

"That's what I thought you said, my good man. Well, I doubt the old girl will notice if we pop out for a few minutes. Or hours. Whichever."

°

(1289 B.C.E., Thebes)

It was the second time that day that Labarnas' adventure--and not to mention his life--had almost come to an ignoble and premature end.

The first incident had found him asleep in the hold of a ship scarcely after sunrise, lulled into oblivion by the gentle rolling of the Nile. Without his knowledge, the ship had docked that morning in the port at Thebes, and a porter had been tasked with unloading the cargo, both expected and unexpected. It just so happened that Labarnas had never gotten around to paying his passage on this particular vessel, it being solely a merchant ship and he with only a single item of value to his name, one which he would never be voluntarily parted from. Labarnas didn't envy the unfortunate porter that had confronted him, not for the nasty bruise he would have when he regained consciousness, nor for the beating he would receive when the captain learned the news of the escaped stow-away.

The second occasion was over a woman, of course.

He had spent the scorching hours of the afternoon in a lazy amble from shade to shade in the streets of Thebes, occasionally charming a morsel of food from a stranger, but more often alone in his own brooding mood. It was impossible for him to imagine creating a new life here in Egypt, where he would be as much of a fugitive as he had been in his own home, and he considered the prospect of journeying farther south, to Nubia perhaps. But he had recently developed an aversion to traveling by ship, and the possibility of enduring the perils of the desert without money for the proper provisions was even more daunting, leaving him unsure of how he would ever reach his goal. He was beginning to believe that it would have been more honorable to be murdered in his native country, where he could have at least been given the dignity of a traditional burial and family to mourn him, instead of dying here in Egypt, alone and forsaken.

As his thoughts wandered into darker ideas, his feet too turned in a different direction, leading him into a neighborhood of the more affluent villas of the kingdom's greatest nobles, their white walls clustered as near as possible to the Pharaoh's palace. He now not only had to compete with pedestrian traffic, but he was also forced to scramble out of the way of speeding chariots and weave around litters glittering with gold. Which was exactly how he managed to collide with this particular woman; while his concentration was absorbed with calling down the wrath of the gods on the head of one particularly reckless chariot driver in his faltering Egyptian, his feet continued his planned course straight into a warm body.

His inspection of this unforeseen obstacle began with the feet, encased in gold-gilded sandals and, beneath the usual coating of dust, well-manicured and undeniably feminine. Brushing her ankles, the texture and cut of the linen she wore spoke of wealth and nobility, thin, nearly transparent, and bleached immaculately white. Clasping the cloth to her at the waist was a braided gold chord, from which hung an amulet of the goddess Hathor inscribed with a spell of protection. Her shoulders were traditionally bare and the skin there was uncommonly pale for an Egyptian, obviously unaccustomed to hours spent out in the elements. Her only piece of adornment was a testament to master craftsmanship, a golden collar inlaid with rectangular cuts of lapis lazuli, onyx, and garnet that glittered fiercely at her throat. The complimentary beads decorating her wig were stirred against her smooth cheeks by a slight breeze, drawing his attention even farther upwards. Shimmering black kohl dramatically darkened the edges of her eyelids, emphasizing the wise loveliness of her eyes, as well as the fact that her eyebrows had been shaven in the Egyptian ritual of mourning.

As he faced her for the first time, he heard the involuntary intake of breath shudder on her lips. His eyes, an intense shade of cerulean blue, were even more uncommon in the Two Lands than they had been in his homeland, and often elicited this kind of response. In Memphis, some had called him _kehft_-man, spirit-man, and had spoken charms to ward off evil, but more often his eyes worked to his advantage since the Egyptians appreciated their rarity and beauty more than they feared them.

It was in that space of time when their gazes first intersected that he finally realized that he was treading on the corner of her gown. His own surprise led him to overreact, stumbling a few steps backward, and in an unusually clumsy movement, he tripped over his own feet, lurched sideways, and fell.

But by some unhappy chance of the gods, he happened to tumble at the feet of one of the most feared militants in all the nations surrounding the Mediterranean, the personal guards of the Pharaohs, the Medjai.

The man whose toes he had crushed grabbed his wrist in order to haul him back to his feet, but in another act of providence, he seized upon the one hand that held the only remaining evidence of the young man's origins. The grip on Labarnas' fingers tightened noticeably.

"What's this?" the soldier growled, though he had clearly recognized the significance of the signet ring. He nearly wrenched Labarnas' shoulder out of its socket as he drug the man to his knees. "How did you come by this pretty piece?" he demanded louder.

"Reshed," a second man bearing the same telling tattoos as Reshed approached, followed by a third, "do you wish to alert all of the Black Land? Hush. Now, what is the quarrel you have with this man?"

"I have no quarrel with him, Captain, beyond the fact that he is a spy."

The captain, a remarkably young man for one in his position, managed to take on a concerned countenance. "A very serious quarrel indeed. And what evidence do you have against this supposed spy?"

"Only what he himself wears." Reshed yanked Labarnas' arm again, causing a fresh spasm of pain, so that his captain could see the ring for himself. "The crest of the royal house of the Hittites, there, on his ring."

"Do you think he might be a thief, Captain?" the third man, who had been silent so far, asked as he peered over his superior's shoulder.

"A Hittite spy," reiterated Reshed vehemently, "come to kidnap the Great Royal Wife, obviously."

"Really," the captain questioned Reshed, "one so clumsy as this? Do you believe that he could have penetrated so far into the capital undetected, only to fall easily into our hands at the first opportunity?" He addressed their new captive for the first time, looking down on him, "Who are you? Tell me your name, man."

Labarnas straightened his shoulders with all the tattered remains of his pride, trying to shake the numbness that was the result of Reshed's hold. "Call off your eager little puppy first. If he lets me go with all my limbs intact, I might just tell you." He added as incentive, "I promise not to run. I am not so much a fool as to overestimate my odds against three armed men."

"Release him."

"But, Captain--"

"Let him be, Reshed. He is mine to deal with as I please." The captain extended a hand as Reshed relinquished his prisoner, and he helped to set Labarnas back on his feet. "Now, your name."

Labarnas flashed the Medjai his most dazzling smile as he stretched his offended arm. "I've changed my mind. A name holds a great deal of power, so I will give mine only in exchange for your own, Captain."

The air quivered as a blade sliced through it, the point coming to rest in the vulnerable hollow of his neck. Young Reshed was trembling with rage. "You will address the captain with more respect, or I will carve out your throat."

"_Enough_, Reshed. It is not your place to make such decisions," the captain chided in a quiet voice that was far more menacing than any bellow. The weapon withdrew reluctantly. "A trade is only fair. My name is Humay."

Labarnas glanced once into the face of Humay, outlined in the brilliance of the sun, and realized he might be seeing the reflection of his own features for the final time in those dark eyes. A Hittite had become a hated creature in the Two Kingdoms ever since the late Pharaoh Seti had launched a campaign to regain territory lost to the Hittites by the preceding dynasty, and his son Rameses had followed his father's example. To be a Hittite was to be an enemy, and to be a Hittite prince was inexcusable. His dignity would allow him to do nothing less than pronounce his own death sentence in the streets of Thebes, but it was a far better fate than living his life in secrecy in these alien lands.

"I did not steal any ring. I am not ashamed of who I am: Larbarnas, a prince of the Hittites."

"Are you certain, my friend, that you did not steal another's name as well? Be careful how you answer."

"I am who I say I am."

"Very well." Emotion flickered in the corners of the captain's lips like the taste of something sour in his mouth, but was quickly suppressed. "Then the sentence is death--but," he let his eyes rest on Reshed, "no hand but mine shall deliver it."

Humay drew his curved sword from the sheath at his side, and the flash of its shining surface in the sun elicited a gasp from those who had stopped in the streets to watch the exchange.

"Wait!"


	2. Oh, so you're married, then?

A/N: Nefertari, with an 'a', was one of principal wives of Rameses II and also his favorite queen. Her origins are somewhat unknown, but it is believed that she was either an Egyptian lady of noble birth or possibly even a daughter of Seti I, since she carried the title of 'Hereditary Princess'. In true Hollywood fashion, I have disregarded all historical truth and made Nefert_a_ri and Nefert_i_ri one person for the purpose of furthering the story's plot. I apologize to any Egyptologists out there for the fact that I am not sorry in the least.

* * *

Of all the things Rick could think of to say about his wife at that moment, this was foremost: Evelyn had impeccable timing. 

She had chosen the most auspicious moment possible to emerge from the study the previous night, just in time to discover him sprawled on his back in the front foyer, too drunk to walk, complaining that his wallet felt too light and demanding she inspect it to ensure that Jonathan hadn't pocketed the £10 note he had been keeping there.

Drunkenness is one of those habits you're expected to renounce when you marry a proper lady like Evie, or at the very least reserve for private family functions. It is not something you indulge in with your notorious rogue of a brother-in-law in any sort of public forum, particularly when you yourself have an unsavory history with alcohol and loose women.

His wife was understandably disappointed in this relapse into his old lifestyle and had promptly thrown him out of the house. She was, however, in a generous enough state of mind upon completing her self-appointed task to call him a taxicab and supply him with enough money to reach Jonathan's flat.

After a great deal of soul-searching and even more sobering-up, neither of which the environment in Jonathan's home had been very conducive to, he was now standing on his own doorstep in the pouring rain feeling like a fool and a half. He raised his fist to knock, having forgotten his key in all the tumult of the night before, but it opened before he touched it. He and Evelyn stared at each other around the barrier of the half-open door, an identical expression of pain on their faces. He reached out and took the door from her hand, but then discovered himself at a momentarily lapse as to what to do next, standing there dumbly in the rain.

"Well," she arched one elegant eyebrow at him, "aren't you coming in?"

More than slightly embarrassed, and certainly humbled, by the position he found himself in, he took up a defensive stance. "I've got a better idea--why don't _you_ come out _here_?"

She appeared suitably horrified by the idea. "Rick, are you mad? It's raining."

"Really?" he feigned surprise, extending one palm-up hand to the dismally grey clouds and observing the heavy droplets as they trickled over his fingertips. "So it is."

"Stop playing around and come inside before you catch your death."

"What if I did? Would you care?" he asked recklessly.

"Ooo, Rick! Of all the questions to ask…" She squirmed with a mixture of exasperation and love, her answer apparent in those unspoken words.

Her reaction gave him hope. "Does that mean I'm forgiven?"

"Not a chance, darling."

"In that case, its actually kinda nice out--" He winced as a particularly large and watery rain drop splattered on his face, rolling painfully slowly to drip off the tip of his nose. "A little damp, but nice nonetheless. I might just stay out here for a while…"

"Suit yourself."

"...at least until I'm all clammy and corpse-y, and then maybe you'll take a second look at me."

"That was a hurtful thing to say. I was going to offer to make you a cup of tea, but now I think you deserve to stand outside all day." She pried his fingers off the door and began to swing it closed.

"Fine," he grated out as he jammed his foot against the door and shouldered it open again. "But I insist on having someone to keep me company."

"What--no--," she barely managed before he circled her waist with one arm and extracted her out of shelter of the doorway. She yelped and writhed in his grasp, lashing out with her fists as the rain flattened tendrils of her hair against her face. "Help! Please…"

With one squeeze, he crushed her closer to his chest, effectively preventing any more movement, and grinned happily down at her half-hearted struggle. "What are you yelling for? Who do you think is going to rescue you this time?"

She ceased to resist, and when he loosened his grip in response, she freed an arm to brush her sodden hair purposefully out of her eyes. "My husband," she answered with conviction.

"Oh, so you're married, then?"

"Yes, but you've probably seen him around, he's hard to miss. Tall." She reached up to tousle his hair. "Handsome. Thick accent…Dumb as an ox and a complete brute. Threatens first and asks questions later."

"I don't know; he's doesn't sound all that awful. At least he's handsome."

"You, sir, have never been married to him."

It had been a very long two days, and suddenly Rick discovered himself with his arms full of possibly the most enticing woman on earth, flirting shamelessly. And he abruptly lost his patience with all forms of conversation. "Dammit, Evelyn," he growled, outmaneuvering her last efforts to evade him and pressing her near enough that not even the rain could slip between them. He kissed her, making sure that she became as drenched as he was in the process.

"You're still not forgiven," she murmured fiercely against his lips.

He opened his eyes and slanted a heart-quickening smile at her. "I'm not?"

"No, you're not. One kiss is certainly not enough to make me forgive you."

"I must be losing my touch, then."

She frowned and retreated the inch or so that his arms allowed. "This," she said earnestly, "is exactly why I didn't want you around."

"Evie, as much as I love it when you're cryptic, I don't understand."

"You, Mister O'Connell, are a distraction. I can't focus on anything when you're near. I can't even remember what I'm supposed to be angry at you about."

"Distraction, hmm? This could work to my advantage."

A small smile curved the outermost edges of her mouth and she leaned back into him. "I…I truly am sorry, Rick. For not realizing that it would hurt your feelings. I've never had much of an opportunity to consider how my actions affect other people before. There is Jonathan, of course, but that's something completely different, isn't it?"

"God, I hope so," he quipped, then reminded himself sternly to take this seriously. "But, yeah, I am too. Sorry, that is. For not trying to understand, and, you know, overreacting. I've been selfish, and I can't promise never to do it again, but I swear I'll do better." After a moment of solemn silence, he blinked unexpectedly. "So, that's it?"

"That's what?"

"That was it our first fight? As a married couple?"

"Ye-e-s," she drawled charmingly in her confusion, "I suppose so. But what's wrong?"

"Well, I was expecting it to be more…dramatic. I thought you might throw something heavy and breakable at me."

"It's never too late to start."

"No, never mind. Besides, now that all the apologies are taken care of…," he tugged her irresistibly towards him, "…maybe I can get down to the business of atoning for my sins." His lips drifted languidly towards hers for an endless moment. "I think," he whispered roughly as he pulled up short, "that it would be best to move this inside, where it's _not_ raining."

"Rick," she murmured urgently, her breath on his lips. He momentarily forgot all about the movement he was planning on making towards the door.

"Yeah?"

"Let's go to Egypt."

°

Nefertiri unexpectedly found herself clinging with more tenacity and strength than her slight build was logically capable of to the sword arm of one of her oldest friends. "Humay, please. Spare this man."

In the course of the conflict in the Theban street, the woman that had been the catalyst for the whole confrontation had been all but forgotten. She, on the other hand, had been one of the most avid observers of the exchange, and in the final, pivotal instant she had at last found an opportunity to intervene. Moved by some inexpressible external motivation, she leapt to the defense of this stranger who had mysteriously evoked so much pity in her.

"Nefertiri?" Caught off guard by her action, the captain betrayed a degree of intimacy that usually none were allowed in such public places. He recovered his composure and lowered his arm beneath her weight, but he did not sheath his weapon. "I am afraid I do not understand, Radiant One. What would you have me do with him?"

Nefertiri grasped for a reason that justified her rash action, and fortunately divine inspiration had not completely abandoned her. "Must we make enemies of those who might be friends? Think, Humay, of all the benefits of having one such as him alive, with all the knowledge in his head intact."

He escaped her clutching fingers. "My lady, are you possibly suggesting--"

"I am."

"You believe this--man--would give us military secrets in trade for his life? That he is not so much of a coward that he would deceive us for the chance of a few more days in Amun-Ra's light? Your innocence is charming, but you are ignorant to the true characters of men."

"I happen to believe I am an excellent judge of character. After all, there is a reason that you have remained one of my oldest and closest friends."

Humay opened his mouth before letting it fall into a deep frown for a moment. "Flattery seems entirely inappropriate in such a grave situation."

Her smile was triumphant, and her voice held a light, cheerful note. "Not if it works, my dear captain. Now if you would kindly ask your prisoner his opinion on the matter…"

"I cannot express to you how highly I disapprove--"

The man who had so recently been preparing to die now found this the ideal time to interrupt. It had taken him some time to comprehend the conversation that was taking place over him, given that it was a rapid exchange in a foreign language that his skills were admittedly lacking in, but now that he understood he was far from pleased to be spared from the sword. Truthfully, he had initially been relieved, but at the present he had no gratitude towards this Egyptian woman who so clearly was scheming to use him to her own advantage, perhaps to advance her standing in the Pharaoh's court.

Labarnas started forward a step, warningly, "Listen, lady--"

The point of the Medjai's sword met with the Hittite's throat, with enough precision just to knick the skin, letting a few drops of blood bead on the surface. Labarnas winced with the sting.

"Careful," Humay snapped as he dropped the sword to waist-level again, an unseen violence surfacing from beneath his perpetual serenity, the true mark of the man who could lead such a fearsome company of warriors. "Even a Hittite prince should know the proper words with which to address a lady of rank, or perhaps I should believe those rumors of our barbaric neighbors to the north."

Labarnas clenched his teeth and quaked with outrage. "Lady," his tone was clipped and distant, "if you would accept my humblest apologies; it has been quite some time since I have been in the presence of a woman of such magnificence and I have forgotten myself. Still, you must understand my objection to being used so--to ask me to betray the place of my birth, my people, it is an unthinkable disgrace."

"True," Nefertiri said insightfully, "but since you are here and not in Hatti, obviously there must have been some rift between yourself and your homeland. There must be a story to tell."

For an instant, Labarnas' eyes darted to the ground before returning the neutral space just beyond the woman's left shoulder. "There is nothing to be said."

The displeasure of the Medjai was still written in the iron set of his jaw, but he would not allow anyone but himself to deter Nefertiri. "The lady is being very generous with you, _Prince_ Labarnas. She asks only a small favor in return, but it is your own choice: your words or your life."

The young man's inner turmoil was betrayed only by the corner of his mouth, which twitched once, before finally settling into a stony, chilly countenance. "If you insist, Captain Humay, but I still think it's too plain a tale to be of interest to either of you. You see, I'm an orphan; my father died when I was very young fighting to protect our lands from the advances of Pharaoh Seti, and my mother succumbed to illness a few seasons later. From then on, I was passed from relative to relative, aunt and uncle and cousin." He fumbled laboriously over his words as he spoke, not only because he was translating his thoughts into Egyptian, but also because he was unaccustomed to making long speeches and his story left him feeling unnerved and exposed. "I became a particular favorite of my uncle, King Muwatallis, when I was younger. He showered me with expensive gifts, lands, titles…But--but there's really no use for superfluous princes once they grow up, is there? Not unless they want to quietly disappear into the priesthood, which I had no intention of doing. So there had to be another way for my uncle to remove me as a threat to his throne, and quite conveniently for him, an old army friend of his accused me of plotting with some of his soldiers to overthrow Muwatallis. I was immediately stripped of all titles, my friends and family turned against me, and I became a fugitive, hunted like an animal in the places that I had grown up in. It was only my grandmother, who had nothing to fear from my uncle, that was able to smuggle me to safety, and I have been fleeing ever since, afraid that he will discover me if I stay too long in any place."

Nefertiri had drifted forward during his speech, drawn in by the emotion he was unintentionally betraying, and now she laid a hand on his arm. Labarnas flinched at the unexpected contact, and his eyes jerked upwards just in time to meet the Egyptian's, wide and hazel and sincere. "You need not worry anymore. You have reached a safe harbor, Prince Labarnas. I will personally assure you of your wellbeing here among us."

"I--" He stumbled over his protest, unable to resist the open honesty of her words, falling under the spell of her promise. His heart was beating erratically fast. "Thank you."

"As poignant as his story is, Bright One," Humay's voice sliced through the enchantment of the moment, "I hate to remind you that you have no authority to give this man such an oath."

"Then take him to my brother Rameses, tell him that I sent you and he will listen. Plea for him on behalf, have Labarnas retell his tale. If he can still put this man to death, then he has no heart."

"And what of your errand, my lady?"

"Reshed and Jarha will accompany me to place the proper offerings in my father's temple; his soul must not be neglected. You must return at once to the palace, I can trust only you with this duty, Humay."

"I am honored. Be safe, Nefertiri."

"And you."

Labarnas said nothing, unsure of what is the fitting goodbye to give your savior, standing still as he watched her part the crowd on the street as she passed. One especially brave individual stepped forward, barely brushing the tips of his fingers against her arm, as if she might turn to dust beneath his touch. "May Amun-Ra smile on you, gracious lady!" he cried out.

You had to be studying her very closely indeed to see the look of sadness and despair that touched her features before they burst forth into a radiant smile. "He already has," she assured the man.

Humay set a heavy hand on Labarnas' shoulder. The Hittite could not stand the question eating at him, and turned his head to ask the other man. "Her brother Rameses--that means that--"

"She is the Great Royal Wife Nefertiri, the Living God's esteemed wife and sister. You are familiar with the Egyptian practice of the Pharaoh marrying one of his sisters in the tradition of Osiris and his queen Isis, are you not?"

"Yes--no--what I mean is, is she a daughter of Seti?"

"Yes, that as well."

His eyes opened in wonder as he observed the retreating figure of the Egyptian queen, and the dry humor in his voice was not lost on the captain. "Then he did not sire a brood of hideous demons as I was brought up to believe."

For the first time, Humay smiled, only a slight smirk as he glanced sideways at Labarnas. "No, no he did not."

"She…" Labarnas strained his mind for something to describe that insubstantial something she had imparted to him, but there were no words. "She is surprisingly kind."

"You would already know that if you had stopped in any of the newer temples in your travels; Rameses inscribes her praises on every available surface. He adores her, all of Egypt adores her, and I, too, must confess a soft spot for the lady. So, if she really sees some nobility, some integrity, under all the grime you've acquired, then I will believe her. Actually, when I was--when you were about to die, I saw in you a self-discipline, a fearlessness. Either you are a devil, Lotus-Eyed One, and have nothing to fear from mortal weapons, or you are incredibly brave. I would like to think that Nefertiri was correct about you." The grip on Labarnas' shoulder tightened in a swift squeeze, propelling him into a walk alongside the Medjai. "But I am wasting time with speculation. Come, you have an audience with the Pharaoh."

* * *

Of course, all my gratitude to my first three reviewers, as well as a great big hello! You guys are awesome!

_**jessi-the-untalented**_: You have no idea how much you reassured me! I have so much trouble writing Jonathan, and I was worried that I had him all wrong.

**_Cookie044_**: I love them too!

**_LalaithCat_**: Don't die just yet. I expect to have you around for later chapters!


	3. Don't you ever get that itch?

"I cannot believe you would do this, Rameses!"

"Nefertiri, if you would--perhaps--I mean, do really think this is the best place to be having this discussion?"

A bashful scribe that the Pharaoh had recently been dictating to turned his head, held his breath, and attempted to fade discreetly into the wall.

"Discussion? I could have sworn that _I_ was shouting at _you_!"

"Yes, yes," Rameses winced away from the lash of her voice, "indeed, you are right. You _are_ shouting. I was merely suggesting that if you would lower your voice, and if we could carry out the rest of this conversation as sensible--"

"Sensible, is that what you are calling it now? I call it cold, heartless, unfeeling, and…and…"

"Nefertiri," the Pharaoh begged, "if you have ever loved me, you will be more mindful of the company we are in…"

The queen folded her arms around herself and huffed in a way that condensed all her disapproval into one breath. "Of course, I would never embarrass you in front of any of your admirers. I will wait."

"My--_heartfelt_--thanks." The most powerful man in all of the Two Lands rounded on the unfortunate scribe with an awkward, plastered-on half-smile. "My friend, if we could continue this at a later time? I am afraid a more pressing matter has been brought to my attention by this most gracious lady. You are dismissed."

The scribe performed his obeisance hastily, clumsily, and disappeared from the chamber with remarkable speed for a man of his girth and a more than adequate amount of relief.

"Now, Tiy," Rameses reverted to youthful nicknames with a childlike smile, "if you would--"

"No."

"But--"

"No."

The smile dropped off his face. "Please?"

"No, no, no. No."

"Well, can I at least say something--_without you interrupting me_?"

"Fine. If you must."

Rameses drew in a long breath and swept up Nefertiri's hands with a theatrical flourish, pressing them against his heart. "My dearest sister, I am dreadfully sorry."

Nefertiri forcefully jerked her hands out of his grip. "Ooo, that is a new emotion for you, isn't it? Sorry. You are always sorry about something. You were sorry when you dropped my favorite doll off the roof when I was six. This is a man's life. There is no sorry."

"A _Hittite's_ life, or had you forgotten? You would understand the decision I had to make if you had ever been Pharaoh."

"If I were in your place, I would have found a way." Her eyes were damp in the outermost edges, and her voice was low and soft but terribly fervent.

Rameses succeeded in recapturing one of her hands, and he pressed it soothingly, trying to impart some solace across the distance between them. "Which is why you are the better person, and I am the Pharaoh. I admire your compassion, but in the interest of the country, you cannot try to rescue every creature with a sad story that makes eyes at you--"

Nefertiri was indignant, "He did not."

"Of course, if you say so. Regardless, you must believe that I considered your feelings, but not even a demi-god has enough power to reverse a year's worth of decrees without inciting a rebellion. I did not think one pair of charming blues eyes was worth the kingdom's stability."

He cut through her protest even as her mouth opened, "No, do not say a word, Tiy. I refuse to be swayed, and you were always better at this arguing business. I even consulted Humay on the matter, since he had been with you, and he approved so much that he personally offered to carry out the execution. Clearly, he is a man who understands that the Pharaoh must attend to his appearance. I cannot let everyone know that I allow a woman to govern my policies, now can I?"

"Humay--" Revelation passed over her face, too quickly to be tracked. "Oh."

"I know, I know," Rameses crooned gently, attempting to avert his sister's wrath. "You must be so disappointed in him, in both of us, but trust that we would never deliberately hurt you."

"No, I understand that." She laid her other hand over his and smiled ever so slightly, suddenly pleasant. "You are my brother, my best friend, Rameses, and in comparison I had known the Hittite for only the space of a heartbeat. I lost sight of that for a moment. Of course you are forgiven, you are always forgiven."

"Good," he said, shifting from foot to foot as a dodgy look descended in his eyes, "then you will not mind when I tell you I have worse news."

She retracted her hands so as to cross her arms gravely across her chest. "What now, Ses?"

"No, do not start accusing me just yet." He waved his hands as if to fend off some invisible attack on his character. "I think that I handled the situation brilliantly."

"I will not believe that until you tell me exactly what happened," Nefertiri urged him impatiently, anxiety beginning to shiver in the small of her back.

"High Priest Amenemhat approached me again today, this time in a public so that his plea could not be ignored. He is cleverer than we have given him credit for."

Nefertiri's jaw clenched with several years' worth of annoyance. "Why must he persist? If he could only accept things--"

"As they are--yes, I know," Rameses completed the well-worn saying. "Personally, I would be flattered that someone cares so much for my wellbeing. He merely wonders how a woman so privileged, so graceful, so beautiful, so virtuous could be so cursed by the gods."

She shook her head pensively. "Which we both know is completely untrue."

"Yes," her brother agreed flatly, "if he spent more time in your presence he would quickly discover that you are neither graceful nor beautiful, and certainly not virtuous."

She deliberately discarded his comment and sharpened her tone. "What I mean is, why can we not simply tell him--"

"What, Tiy? That we have been married from the time you were twelve, but we have never bothered to produce any princes because we want to preserve our childhood friendship?"

"Well," she faltered, "not exactly those words, but yes."

"No, he would not accept it. The people would not accept it."

"You have other wives, other children; why are they not enough?"

"I do not need another heir, Nefertiri, you know that. What I need is something more. You are…" he dug for a single word that would encapsulate the spiritual role of the Great Royal Wife, "a symbol, an embodiment of the greatness of Egypt. When you prosper, the land prospers. And," he added slyly, his head tilted slightly to the side as if anticipating a blow, "you could solve our problems very easily if you would only take a lover…"

"Rameses!" He said it purely for the opportunity to see his sister redden to the ears. "Just--just tell me how you answered Amenemhat."

"I ordered him to perform a pilgrimage with several of his priests," Rameses answered with the smirk he usually wore when speaking of the majestic alter ego he undertook when wearing the crown. Sometimes the mischievous part of him enjoyed acting the part of king far too much. "They are to ask guidance of the Oracle of Amun-Ra. Do you see, Tiy," he exclaimed, delighted with himself for his own ingeniousness, eager to share, "do you see how perfect it is? _If_ they complete the journey, and _if_ the Oracle gives them an answer--which I honestly doubt, given the circumstances--then we have more than a year in the meantime to devise a solution."

"Yes, it is wonderful, Ses," she hesitantly allowed herself to be drawn into his excitement. "But--"

"No, I will not hear it. You are not to worry. I am going to take care of everything."

He smiled infectiously at her, and she, unable to resist, smiled back. For a moment, the troubles in her world moved away, all forgotten in the company of her brother's endless cheerfulness--even the Hittite.

°

The fireplace was blazing, and in every possible place their clothes were draped near its heat, slowly drying. Evelyn was seated on the floor, cross-legged, with her back to the searing warmth of the flames, waiting impatiently for it to seep into the frozen corners of her flesh. She shivered and tugged an old, sorely-abused quilt--her only piece of covering--closer around her bare shoulders.

Her husband, however, did not seem interested in the least with the availability of her current position, and was instead situated in the farthest possible seat from his wife. He was wearing with noticeable discomfort an ill-fitting silk dressing gown most likely forgotten by Jonathan at some point or other, and a chilling glower.

"How many ways can I say 'no', Evelyn?"

"If you would only listen to me for a moment--I don't feel as if you've even heard a word I've said."

"Alright, then. You've got thirty seconds."

Her voice rose with irritation, "That hardly seems fair--"

"Talk," his gruff bark drowned out the rest of her objection.

"You see," she exclaimed, "this is exactly what I mean, Rick! This city is getting to us, making us both cross--with each other of all people!"

"We have _one_ fight…" Rick muttered in an undertone that Evie studiously ignored.

"We can't pretend we're the sort of people that can live like this; it's far too _domestic_ to suit us all year long. We need to travel, at least every once in awhile, renew that sense of excitement that brought us together in the first place--and why not to Egypt? If we could only get away to Cairo for a few weeks…" She lowered her voice alluringly. "Just you and me…" She allowed a pause while the image of them together surrounded by all the glories of Egypt formed itself in her husband's mind, and then added quickly, "And Jonathan."

"Okay, two fights," Rick conceded before registering the meaning of what she had just said. "Jonathan? Absolutely not. Don't get me wrong, I like your brother well enough--no, scratch that, I think he's a deceitful son of a bitch--"

"Rick!"

"--and I don't want to spend any sort of 'vacation' babysitting good ol' Jon. I have enough trouble keeping one Carnahan out of danger, much less two."

"All the more reason to take him with us. If we were to leave him here, with all his gambling friends, then we'd probably have no home to come back to. Best to keep his type under your thumb."

"We wouldn't have to worry about it if we never left in the first place."

She was quiet for a moment and Rick allowed himself to believe that he had successfully deterred her, but then Evelyn drew the blanket around her, stood, and crossed the room to take a seat next to her husband on the couch. Rick was torn between storming out of the room and grabbing her by the shoulders in order to shake some sense into the girl. Her hand slid over top of his while he was still deciding.

"Forget Jonathan for a minute," she commanded softly, capturing his eyes. "Just look at me and tell me that you don't feel it, Rick. Don't you ever get that itch? That sensation that you're wasting away in mediocrity when there's a whole world out there full of adventures and thrills and new discoveries? Don't you ever miss it? Don't you ever regret giving it up?"

Rick swallowed and looked down at their entangled fingers. "I didn't give anything up, Evelyn. Do you think I _enjoy_ getting shot at? And besides, I got you in the deal."

Her other hand rose to frame his face, following the contours of his cheek. "That's sweet, Rick, but is it enough? For the rest of our lives? We can't live off Hamunaptra forever; one day, you'll have to take a job you hate--and my career is going nowhere just dawdling around in the museum. One day, we won't even recognize ourselves. I don't want to lose this, I don't want to lose the people that we are right now."

Perhaps it was the gentleness in her tone, the sudden redirection of her argument, which made suspicion claw at the back of his neck. This was not the Evelyn who so recently had been sitting in front the fire, battling with him, and he got the distinct feeling that this mildness was meant to distract him from her true motives, quell his doubts with rationale he would listen to. Rick returned his gaze to that open, serene face with a renewed fire. "What is that you really want? What's in Egypt for you?"

"Us. Not the people who sulk around this house all day, but the ones who fell in love in the first place."

He withdrew his hand, moving a few inches back, away from the temptation of her words. "The truth, Evelyn, I deserve as much. What did you find?"

It was her turn to glance away. "A tomb--just a tomb."

His voice grew dark, "And what's the danger in it?"

"None, honestly. Nothing more than a dead prince and all his treasure. And if I'm right--and I'm sure that I am--no one's entered the tomb in over three thousand years, not a single grave robber. Do you know what that means, Rick? This--this is bigger than Howard Carter."

"That's it, then? You're after the fame and glory?"

She appeared insulted that the thought had even occurred to him. "No, not at all! I'm thinking of the academic advancements. No one has ever found such a complete Egyptian burial, and the possibilities are absolutely astounding."

"You swear," he pinned her with a stare, "you swear that's all you want from this?"

"I haven't lied to you, Rick. I want this discovery to be ours, but more than that I want you with me, in Egypt. I want us, the way we were."

He shook his head slowly, regretfully, and closed his eyes briefly. "I don't believe you."

She didn't say a word, only fixed him with an expression of utter disappointment, gathered her blanket and her dignity around her, and swept out of the room.

°

"Labarnas, prince of the Hittites, is dead."

The prince in question flinched, squeezing his eyes shut as he awaited the killing blow that was sure to follow the pronouncement. After a moment of unbearable stillness, he mustered an air of bravery he did not feel, snarling, "Yes, we all know that. There is no sense in repeating what has already been said, so could we just end it now?" As another period of inaction passed, he took the time to wonder why he had closed his eyes instinctively, and, if there was an afterlife, would he regret not witnessing the last few seconds of his life?

He opened his eyes.

Humay had not yet drawn the sword that rested at his hip, his hands spread in front of him, palms facing towards Labarnas, in a gesture of peace. "I have no intention of hurting you," the Medjai captain swore solemnly.

The Hittite shook his head, mystified by this display. "That is an odd way of saying you are going to be humane about executing me."

"No, you misunderstand. I am not going to kill you."

His knees buckled with relief, and he was forced to lean his weight against the solid support of the wall behind him. "That certainly goes against the proclamation your Pharaoh made earlier," he pointed out boldly, though he had no real intention of debating Humay's decision.

"Not entirely so." The smile touched his voice more than it did his lips. "Not if Rameses _believes_ you are dead."

"I must admit that I intend to be a willing accomplice, but at the same time I still do not understand. This action goes against your faith. Disobeying a god is a serious offense."

"Rameses is no god of mine," Humay declared in a tone that made Labarnas glance reflexively to his left and right, ensuring no one in the courtyard was in range of hearing of such treason. No one was. "My people are originally nomads from Nubia, and we have a very convoluted history with the Pharaoh. We have served him, we have fought beside him, but at times in our history we have also fought _against_ him. I owe Rameses my allegiance, but I answer to my own sense of honor first."

"Well," Labarnas attempted to sound collected and unruffled as he tested out his legs once again, discovering that, though trembling, they _would_ support him, "I do not think that my gratitude is enough to cover such a debt. I suppose you will want something from me in return."

"You owe me nothing. I am doing this because the lady charged me with your protection. You will have to take up the debt with her."

Furrows appeared in the Hittite's brow. "Perhaps I overestimated my understanding of Egyptian, because I cannot follow a single piece of your reasoning. Why is the lady any different than her brother? They are both Egyptian royalty."

"Nefertiri holds my friendship. Without her influence, I would never have risen to the position I am in. And…I owe her a life. Yours will do just as well as any other."

"A life?" Labarnas found himself repeating, trying to imagine that delicate flower of a lady from the Theban street ever becoming violent, much less taking a life.

Darkness clouded the Medjai's face, veiling as many emotions as it revealed. "Seti's death last year was no accident. And I could do nothing to stop it."

Labarnas' lips drew back far enough to be considered a sneer at the mention of the deceased Pharaoh. "Not exactly a crime in and of itself."

The captain's eyes flashed, sending him a reproaching look. "Seti was not the monster you want to believe he was; he was simply human. And his daughter loved him very, very much. The fact that you were orphaned by a war has very little to do with your current situation. Seti was not the man who exiled you. Perhaps," he said, his voice deceptively soft, "you are placing the blame where it does not belong."

He frowned as those words resonated painfully with some truth he had hidden from himself. _I have not been abandoned by my people, and I will not abandon them_, he reminded himself. Banishing his doubt as quickly as it materialized, he settled the issue briskly, "In spite of my contempt for the father, I do intend on paying my debt."

"As to that, you will be living with the Medjai in the palace barracks. Thebes is a meeting place of many cultures," he clarified as he examined his taller, fairer companion, "and no one with think to mention your differences. You will no longer use your Hattian name, but will answer only to Shu. I expect you to train with us, to fight with us, to never question orders," the words took on a harsh bite as authority crept in, "and one day, you may be privileged enough to give your life in the protection of Lady Nefertiri."

The once-prince swallowed his humiliation at being ordered around in such a manner, his life decided for him. "That is it?" he asked softly to prevent anger from leaking into his voice. "That is all I have to hope for, for all my life?"

"Is it not enough?" Humay lifted his eyebrows, a threat turning his tone deadly, "Because I could still kill you here, now."

He shrugged nonchalantly, letting his hopes slide away from him with the movement. "I do not seem to be in any sort of position to refuse your offer."

Humay proffered a hand which the other man took cautiously, reluctantly. "Then welcome to my company, soldier."

°

Rick had known war in all the worst of its conditions; he knew all of its strategies and posturing, its ambushes and retreats, its weapons, its bloodshed, its torture. He knew its rhythms as well, as instinctively, as he knew how to breathe.

This was no war he had ever known. It was fought in the sitting room, in the kitchen, in the bedroom, with tense silences and searing glares and closed doors. It was not a test of strength or valor, but one of wills. And he had a sneaking suspicion he was losing.

Evelyn was an adversary unlike any he had ever known, with unfamiliar skills honed after years of practice on an unwitting Jonathan. Rick, on the contrary, had no experience with this sort of maneuvering; he had a strictly straight-forward approach to any confrontation: if he couldn't intimidate his opponent with his size and stature, then he simply put a bullet into any available, vulnerable body part. The latter obviously didn't apply to Mrs. O'Connell. Nor was it appropriate with her brother. Or their society friends he was expected to play nice with on Sunday afternoons.

Marriage was teaching him a great deal about proper, civilized behavior, more than he had ever expected. But sometimes he felt as if he wasn't learning the lessons quickly enough.

Like now, for instance.

How one managed a decent night's sleep in the middle of a marital conflict was beyond his limited knowledge of the institution. But, to all appearances, Evelyn was slumbering quite peacefully, curled on her side, sheet pulled up to the tip of her chin, breathing evenly and undisturbed. His side of the bed, in contrast, had been ravaged by several hours' worth of restless tossing, a mangled confusion of pillow and sheet and comforter.

Unable to find any calm except vicariously through her, he had spent the past half-hour tracing the curve of her spine, observing the effortless rise and fall of her rib cage, feeling his heart twist as she stirred endearingly in her sleep, even brushing a few wayward strands of hair away from her face. But none of it satisfied his need to wrap himself around her, to pour his protection over her, to make himself a shield between her and the world.

She jumbled his emotions in ways that he couldn't explain. He would do anything, _anything_, to make her happy, to be the inspiration for one of those smiles. And yet, he would go to even greater lengths to see her safe, even if it meant breaking both their hearts in process.

An edginess descended on him again that not even her presence could erase. No longer thinking, he threw himself out the bed, out of the room, down the hallway. He paced that short stretch of wood for an untold amount of time, until the view from one the windows finally ensnared him enough to still his feet.

The pre-dawn hours had brought fog with it, curling through the streets, choking the trees, obscuring the buildings, sinking the whole city into a thick, swirling grayness. He felt like he was suffocating.

Bracing himself on the windowsill, he balanced on one leg as he lifted his other foot to scratch at an annoyance on his calf.

He couldn't admit she was right, he realized as his eyes drifted aimlessly over the dismal landscape, not because of his pride, but because it would be a defeat on a much deeper level. He would be admitting that he had misjudged the strength of their bond, letting go of that child-like belief in a love that would pull them through all challenges. Love was hard, marriage was harder. And it hurt like hell.

He snaked an arm around to rake his fingernails over his back, trying to relieve the burning sensation under his left shoulder.

He couldn't give in…because he was afraid.

He, Richard O'Connell, was afraid of a woman, _for_ a woman.

His hand moved upward, intent on the itch irritating the nape of his neck.

He snatched his fingers back when he realized what was happening. "Shit," he swore fiercely. _Don't you ever get that itch?_ He was allowing her under his skin, letting her arguments influence him subconsciously. There was no itch, it was all in his mind. All he had to do was believe there was no itch.

Except that his arm was on fire, and it was all he could do to restrain himself from flaying the skin from bone.

He tore back down the hall, no longer caring for the amount of noise he made. Deciding that ripping the door off the hinges would be too messy, he settled for sending it flying open with a crash. He crossed the distance to the bed in two strides. "Evelyn." He took her by the arms, shaking her with more tenderness than he felt. "Evelyn, wake up."

The clarity and expectation in her eyes when she opened them told him instantly that she had never actually been asleep.

"Is something wrong, Rick?" she asked innocently.

_Infuriating little minx._

He sat heavily on the bed beside her. "If I were to say yes," he proposed before adding in one hasty breath,"and I'm not saying I'm going to...you have to agree to two conditions."

Apprehension creased the corners of her eyes. "And what would they be?"

"First of all, you have to promise me that you won't get yourself kidnapped or sacrificed or dead. Got it?"

He lips twitched as she listened to him, but she was solemn enough when she spoke, "I promise. What's the second condition?"

Rick smiled, though it wasn't a particularly nice smile. "You get to tell Jonathan he's going to Egypt with us."

* * *

To my lovely, lovely reviewers: 

_**LalaithCat**_: Have a cookie and try to not blow away while waiting on the next update. I'd miss you and your wonderful compliments too much if you weren't around.

**_Lilyhead_**: Intrigued is good, very good. And I hope you'll be around when I post more chapters.

_**KhenemetamenSekhmet**_: Though I have changed most of the major details, the plot in past Egypt is historically based. There _was_ a war between the Hittites and the Egyptians from Seti I's reign to the fifth year of Rameses II's, when a peace treaty (the first in recorded history) was signed between the two empires.

_**Nonnie**_: Where I'm going with this? Um, I hope you'll tell me when I get there, because, honestly, I'm winging it! (grin)

_**lilylynn**_: So glad you thought it was cute! I never know how my sense of humor will go over with other people.

_**Verona**_: Your reviews absolutely made my day! Not once, but twice.Thank you so much and don't be a stranger!

_**Sweetdeath04**_: Between you and me--though I didn't write in the story--I really do believe Jonathan took the money. And Rick _is_ adorable, in all stages of intoxication.


	4. What’s on your mind, old mum?

Jonathan was suspicious, an unfamiliar emotion for a man who preferred to spend the greater part of his life in a state of blissful unawareness.

Evie rarely invited him anywhere in public. Of course, under the right amount of pressure, he could appear on her doorstep with an almost credible excuse and _accompany_ her out, but an actual _invitation_ to dinner was unthinkable.

In fact, she hadn't taken him to any restaurants since that incident in Cairo nearly a year and half ago. She had been quite put out with him for landing himself in the hospital for a week with a concussion and a broken wrist. Still, she had committed herself to spending the whole time at his side, sleeping in the chair next to his bed, fussing over the temperature in the room, feeding him when he couldn't lift his arm from the pain, reading to him from the newspaper, all while she scolded him soundly and swore she'd never speak to him again.

No, Evie didn't take him out in public often.

And despite all his regular appearances in her home, truthfully, the siblings had spent so little real time together in the months following Evie's marriage. Whether Jonathan was prepared or not, they had reached the end of an era. Simply put, she didn't _need_ him as an escort anymore; she had a permanent one now. Her embarrassment of an older brother could hardly compete with the American over the monopoly on her attention, and honestly, he wasn't inclined to even try to wrest it away from Rick. For the first time, his little Evie was in love, and though he may have doubts about her judgment, he certainly wasn't going to interfere with her happiness. It had taken him longer than he had anticipated to adjust to his recent downsized role in his sister's life, but he was learning to satisfy himself with the absentminded greetings and habitual kisses on the cheek his comings and goings called for.

But sometimes…Well, he had raised Evie as much as she had raised him. They had played each others' parent, teacher, conscience, most trusted confidant, and closest friend. And he felt the loss of the past on more levels than any mere brother.

"…was thinking of something blue in the dining room," her voice broke into his reverie, making him painfully aware that he hadn't heard a word she'd said in the last five minutes, "and you're there so often anyway, I thought I might as well get your opinion on the wallpaper."

Her tone was pleasant enough, but there was something melancholy in her eyes that was pleading silently with him and it was beginning to make his skin itch.

"Bugger the wallpaper," he gave in and answered that unspoken appeal. "You didn't really bring me here to discuss the fine points of home decorating, did you?" He settled back in his chair, bracing himself for whatever blow was coming. With Evie, nothing was ever simple or easy. "What's on your mind, old mum?"

Relief mingled with her look of surprise as he broached the subject so unexpectedly. She fiddled nervously with the napkin on her lap. "Rick and I…we've decided to return to Egypt. And we would love to have you with us."

"You mean, _you _would love to have me along."

"No, both of us agreed on it." An odd expression crossed her face, like she wanted very much to laugh out loud but was afraid it wouldn't be appropriate. "In fact, Rick suggested _very strongly_ that I persuade you to come too."

"Ah," he said, not understanding at all. "So, Rick is in need of a little reinforcement to keep you in line, is he? I can see why, what with you in your current condition."

Her eyes went wide, so that he could see the whites all the way around the iris. She spaced her words out with care. "Whatever are you referring to, Jon?"

He narrowed his eyes as he observed her reaction. Any honest card player can recognize a bluff, and though Jonathan wasn't honest by any stretch of the imagination, this one was clear enough to read on his sister's face. "Don't tell me you haven't shared the news with the poor man, Evie. Why shouldn't he--" A thought occurred to him, stopped him in his mental tracks. "Wait, O'Connell _is_ the father, isn't he?"

"_Jonathan_!" she hissed, darting a glance around to ensure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Well, you can never be sure nowadays, what with all the moral decay running rampant," he defended his position. "And I barely recognize you lately, that Yank has brought you out of your shell so much. Not that I object so much, but--"

"How did you know?" she interrupted his rambling in an impatient whisper.

"I may be oblivious, Evie," he allowed some hurt to seep into his indignant tone, "but I also happen to be your brother. I know you better, have known you much longer, than that husband of yours, and I couldn't help but notice the change in your habits recently."

"Promise me you won't tell him, Jonathan. Please."

"It doesn't seem like my place to tell him, but that doesn't excuse your behavior. Why in God's name must it be a secret?"

"Because he _wouldn't let me go to Egypt_ if he knew." Her hand had clenched determinedly in the napkin. "We both know that if Rick found out, I would never set foot in Cairo. He'd lock me up for the next nine months, and possibly longer. It's not as if I enjoy deceiving my husband, but this dig means so much to me, I couldn't forgive myself if I let the opportunity pass me by.

"Only a fortnight more," she reasoned with herself as much as she did him. "Two weeks of silence is all I'm asking for, Jonathan. No more than that."

Jonathan took his time in considering his answer. Any personal opinion he might have had in the matter was drowned out by his overwhelming loyalty to his only family. If Evie needed him…well, at least his death at Rick's hands when the American discovered their insincerity would be an honorable one--and, he hoped, mercifully short, as well. "I suppose," he drew out his pronouncement, "that if your husband doesn't know to care for you properly, then I'll just have to tag along to Egypt to ensure that no harm comes to you."

Her smile was all the thanks that were required between the two of them, and he returned it with one of his own and a broad, conspiring wink while he leaned in to snatch up the bill lying on the table. He glanced once at it before reaching beneath the left breast of his jacket. After a moment, he withdrew the hand with a frown and slid the other under his right lapel. When further probing revealed nothing, he began to pat his trouser pockets frantically.

He glanced up at her under his lashes with a piteous look that Evelyn knew well. "Er, Evie--I seem to--that is, my billfold…"

She held her hand out gently, patiently, for the bill to be deposited in it, and he could do nothing but comply. "I'll pay, Jonathan."

"Sorry, old mum," he apologized out of habit, and then realized there was a better expression. "I mean, thank you."

"Don't mention it," she said with a wistful smile, "we're family, after all."

A family that was about to get a mite bigger. The thought brought an unexpected grin to his lips.

_He was going to be an uncle. _

"You're a doll, Evie." He leaned over to place an affectionate kiss on her cheek. "An absolute doll."

°

(1927, Mediterranean Sea, near Alexandria)

"Honestly, Rick, _must_ you do that here?"

Rick glanced at the gun he was meticulously polishing. Glanced at his wife. Glanced around the cramped deck of the ship. His fellow passengers returned his look with edgy, cautious glares.

"Listen, honey, if you can suggest a better place, I'd be happy to move. Until then…" He picked up the rag lying on the undersized table between them and returned to his painstaking ministrations.

"Since you refuse to let me out of your sight and return to the cabin, there will be plenty of private places to attend to your…arsenal…once we reach Alexandria. And we'll have a day there before we catch the second boat to Cairo--plenty of time for you to do whatever. Can't it at least wait until then?"

His gaze flickered over Evie's face. Flickered over Jonathan's. He frowned grimly. "No. It can't wait."

"Leave him be, Evie," Jonathan interrupted whatever remark his sister was preparing. "He hasn't shot anyone yet. Besides, I want to hear more about this Rameses fellow you mentioned."

Allowing Evelyn the opportunity to show off her scholarly prowess was the perfect ruse to divert the public spat they were headed towards, which was obvious by the way she immediately dropped the subject and straightened her shoulders with self-importance. Jonathan allowed himself a private smirk at his own ingeniousness and settled into his chair for what would surely be a long discourse on Egyptian history.

"Rameses the Second," she intoned with no shortage of enthusiasm, "or Rameses the Great, was the son of our old friend Seti the First, and probably the most famous Pharaoh of all."

"'The Great', eh?" Jonathan prompted at the appropriate pause. "You have to be some sort of king to earn a title like that." He paused, thoughtfully. "And rich, really rich."

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "_All_ of the Pharaohs were rich, Jon. But yes, Rameses was wealthy…well, at least to start with. By the end of his 67-year reign, he had drained the coffers of Egypt to pay for his extensive building projects. You see, he did everything to excess. He erected more monuments than any other Pharaoh, though he often resorted to cheap methods to hurry things along. And he certainly took polygamy to an extreme as well, and fathered somewhere in the range of 100 sons and 60 daughters. Neither was he satisfied with being simply the descendant of a god, but actually presented himself as a full-fledged deity. Not that the Pharaohs were a modest group, but he had a particularly inflated sense of self-worth."

She broke off her speech to take a breath, and then blushed as she became aware of being drawn into such a sprawling explanation. "He wasn't entirely consumed by his ego, though," she hastily summed up her dissertation with a sheepish smile, "he _did_ sign the first ever peace treaty in recorded history with the Hittites." She stopped to tuck an errant curl back into her disordered bun. "But the story actually has nothing to with Rameses at all; it's about his son Setna, probably the most famous Egyptian hero and magician."

Rick raised one eyebrow as he looked up from his work, betraying the fact that he had been listening just as avidly as Jonathan. "A magician, Evelyn?" he demanded, disbelievingly.

"Come now, Rick, not a _real_ magician. Just a very smart man who people started spreading stories about until everything about him became superhuman. But what the legend says about him is that he was a great magician, but not the greatest Egypt had ever know, a fact which he discovered one day while reading a scroll. It told the tale of an earlier prince, Nefrekeptah, who had read from the Book of Thoth."

"The Book of what?" Rick interjected, no longer even pretending to pay attention to his weapons. "We're not going out looking for any more goddamn books, Evie. _None_."

"For Heaven's sake, don't you think I know that? Even if the book ever had existed, and if it somehow managed to survive to the present day, I wouldn't lay a finger on it. I'm interested in uncovering Nefrekeptah's tomb--which, if I may continue, Setna and his brother Anherru traveled to Memphis to visit in order to retrieve the book from its resting place. Setna entered the central chamber, where he was greeted by the _Kas_--sort of like the ghosts--of a woman and a boy. When Setna asked the woman for the book lying with Nefrekeptah's mummy, she tried to warn him away with her own story. "

°

(1288 B.C.E., Thebes)

"'Nefrekeptah and I were the children of the Pharaoh Amenhotep," the voice of the scribe swelled to fill the entire chamber as he read from the ancient scroll, washing over his three lone listeners with an overwhelming power. By some unknown magic, the sound seemed to trick Nefertiri's ears, transforming into the mournful sob of her predecessor, Ahura, the bride of Nefrekeptah, whose tale had been recorded in previous generations as a warning to those who followed. "'And, according to the custom, we became husband and wife, and a son Merab was born to us.'

"'Nefrekeptah cared above all things for the wisdom of the ancients and for the magic that is to be learned from all that is carved on the temple walls, and within the tombs and pyramids of long-dead kings and priests in Saqqara. One day as he was studying what is carved on the walls in one of the most ancient shrines of the gods, he heard a priest laugh mockingly and say, "All that you read there is but worthless. I could tell you where lies the Book of Thoth, which the god of wisdom wrote with his own hand. When you have read its first page you will be able to enchant the heaven and the earth, the abyss, the mountains and the sea; and you shall know what the birds and the beasts and the reptiles are saying. And when you have read the second page your eyes will behold all the secrets of the gods themselves, and read all that is hidden in the stars.'"

A supporting arm slipped underneath her elbow, and Nefertiri bestowed a grateful grimace on Humay. Her knees were decidedly wobbly, though she would never had admitted that to anyone, and by simply offering his assistance, he had effortlessly circumvented the humiliation of asking for help and preserved her sense of dignity.

"'Then said Nefrekeptah to the priest, "By the life of Pharaoh, tell me what you would have me do for you, and I will do it--if only you will tell me where the Book of Thoth is.'

"'And the priest answered, "If you would learn where it lies, you must first give me a hundred bars of silver for my funeral, and issue orders that when I die my body shall be buried like that of a great king."'

"'Nefrekeptah did all that the priest asked; and when he had received the bars of silver, he said, "The Book of Thoth lies beneath the middle of the Nile at Koptos, in an iron box. In the iron box is a box of bronze; in the bronze box is a sycamore box; in the sycamore box is an ivory and ebony box; in the ivory and ebony box is a silver box; in the silver box is a golden box--and in that lies the Book of Thoth. All around the iron box are twisted snakes and scorpions, and it is guarded by a serpent who cannot be slain."'"

Nefertiri knew she must look a sight. She hadn't bothered with her pots of cosmetics that morning, nor paid attention to the clothes she had dressed in. Her eyes, she was sure, were ridiculously wide as they tried to contain a barrage of unshed tears, and the tremors running through her hands were impossible to conceal. But she didn't worry much about her appearance, being mainly consumed with her own fear. Her world had been turned on end, and, by Isis, she could forego her finery just for today.

"'Nefrekeptah was beside himself with joy. He hastened home from the shrine and told me all that he had learned. But I feared lest evil should come of it, and said to him, "Do not go to Koptos to seek this book, for I know that it will bring great sorrow to you and to those you love.'

"'I tried in vain to hold Nefrekeptah back, but he shook me off and went to Pharaoh, our royal father, and told him what he had learned from the priest.'

"'Then said Pharaoh, "What is it that you desire?" And Nefrekeptah answered, "Bid your servants make ready the Royal Boat, for I would sail south to Koptos with Ahura my wife and our son Merab to seek this book without delay."'

"'All was done as he wished, and we sailed up the Nile until we came to Koptos. And there the priests and priestesses of Isis came to welcome us and led us up to the Temple of Isis and Horus. Nefrekeptah made a great sacrifice of an ox, a goose and some wine, and we feasted with the priests and their wives in a fine house looking out upon the river.'"

But Nefertiri couldn't, wouldn't, blame Rameses. She had known better than to believe his promises. Not only was he occupied by the duties of his office, but he was also consistently forgetful, and they had both allowed their year of grace to pass without devising a plan to remedy their situation.

No, neither of them was to be blamed. They could never have anticipated the chain of events they had set into place, the consequences they had brought upon themselves.

"'But on the morning of the fifth day, leaving me and Merab to watch from the window of the house, Nefrekeptah went down to the river and made a great enchantment.'

"'First he created a magic cabin that was full of men and tackle. He cast a spell on it, giving life and breath to the men, and he sank the magic cabin into the river. Then he filled the Royal Boat with sand and put out into the middle of the Nile until he came to the place below which the magic cabin lay. And he spoke words of power, and cried, "Workmen, workmen, work for me even where lies the Book of Thoth!" They toiled without ceasing by day and by night, and on the third day they reached the place where the Book lay.'

"'Then Nefrekeptah cast out the sand and they raised the Book on it until it stood upon a shoal above the level of the river.'

"'And behold all about the iron box, below it and above it, snakes and scorpions twined. And the serpent that could not die was twined about the box itself. Nefrekeptah cried to the snakes and scorpions a loud and terrible cry--and at his words of magic they became still, nor could one of them move.'

"'Then Nefrekeptah walked unharmed among the snakes and scorpions until he came to where the serpent that could not die lay curled around the box of iron. The serpent reared itself up for battle, since no charm could work on it, and Nefrekeptah drew his sword and rushing upon it, smote off its head at a single blow. But at once the head and the body sprang together, and the serpent that could not die was whole again and ready for the fray. Once more Nefrekeptah smote off its head, and this time he cast it far away into the river. But at once the head returned to the body, and was joined to the neck, and the serpent that could not die was ready for its next battle.'

"'Nefrekeptah saw that the serpent could not be slain, but must be overcome by cunning. So once more he struck off its head. But before head and body could come together he put sand on each part so that when they tried to join they could not do so as there was sand between them--and the serpent that could not die lay helpless in two pieces.'

"'Then Nefrekeptah went to where the iron box lay on the shoal in the river; and the snakes and scorpions watched him; and the head of the serpent that could not die watched him also: but none of them could harm him.'"

The priests had returned early that morning, early enough that Nefertiri had to be summoned from her couch by her maid to go to meet them. They had been thin and threadbare, worn away by the arduous journey they had undertaken into the desert to the Oracle, but they had been filled with energy and exuberance. They had, against all expectations, returned with an answer for the queen from the mouth of Ra. Only High Priest Amenemhat, their leader, had been somber, perhaps recognizing the danger he had brought to the lady he had only hoped to present with a remedy.

"'He opened the iron box and found in it a bronze box; he opened the bronze box and found in it a box of sycamore wood; he opened that and found a box of ivory and ebony, and in that a box of silver, and at the last a box of gold. And when he had opened the golden box he found in it the Book of Thoth. He opened the Book and read the first page--and at once he had power over the heavens and the earth, the abyss, the mountains and the sea; he knew what the birds and the beasts and the fishes were saying. He read the next page of spells, and saw the sun shining in the sky, the moon and the stars, and knew their secrets--and he saw also the gods themselves who are hidden from mortal sight.'

"'When Nefrekeptah came to me, he held out the Book of Thoth and I took it in my hands. And when I read the first page I also had power over the heavens and the earth, the abyss, the mountains and the sea; and I also knew what the birds, the beasts and the fishes were saying. And when I read the second page I saw the sun, the moon and the stars with all the gods, and knew their secrets even as he did.'

"'After this we entered the Royal Boat and set sail for Memphis. But scarcely had we begun to move, when a sudden power seemed to seize our little boy Merab so that he was drawn into the river and sank out of sight. Seizing the Book of Thoth, Nefrekeptah read from it the necessary spell, and at once the body of Merab rose to the surface of the river and we lifted it on board. But not all the magic in the Book, not that of any magician in Egypt, could bring Merab back to life. Nonetheless Nefrekeptah was able to make his _Ka_ speak to us and tell us what had caused his death. And the _Ka_ of Merab said, "Thoth the great god found that his Book had been taken, and he hastened before Amun-Ra, saying, 'Nefrekeptah, son of Pharaoh Amenhotep, has found my magic box and slain its guards and taken my Book with all the magic that is in it.' And Ra replied to him, 'Deal with Nefrekeptah and all that is his as it seems good to you: I send out my power to work sorrow and bring a punishment upon him and upon his wife and child.' And that power from Ra, passing through the will of Thoth, drew me into the river and drowned me.'"

Ra had spoken to the priests through his Oracle, instructing them that Nefertiri herself must travel to Nefrekeptah's tomb in Memphis and return the Book of Thoth to its original home with her own hands. Only then would she bear Egypt a prince. It was a confusing request, to say the least. The greatest of their gods had commanded her to commit the greatest sin: to rob the dead.

Amenemhat had offered his regrets after delivering his message, the first of many apologies that day. Amenemhat was not to blame, either. Nefertiri could only hold responsible the gods who had sent this chilling wind of fate sweeping through her life, rattling its fragile order.

"'Then we made great lamentation, for our hearts were well nigh broken at the death of Merab. We put back to shore at Koptos, and there his body was embalmed and laid in a tomb as befitted him.'

"'When the rites of burial and the lamentations for the dead were ended, Nefrekeptah said to me, "Let us now sail with all haste down to Memphis to tell our father the Pharaoh what has chanced. For his heart will be heavy at the death of Merab. Yet he will rejoice that I have the Book of Thoth."'

"'So we set sail once more in the Royal Boat. But when it came to the place where Merab had fallen into the water, the power of Re came upon me also and I walked out of the cabin and fell into the river and was drowned. And when Nefrekeptah by his magic arts had raised my body out of the river, and my _Ka_ had told him all, he turned back to Koptos and had my body embalmed and laid in the tomb beside Merab.'

"'Then he set out once more in bitter sorrow for Memphis. But when it reached that city, and Pharaoh came aboard the Royal Boat, it was to find Nefrekeptah lying dead in the cabin with the Book of Thoth bound upon his breast. So there was mourning throughout all the land of Egypt, and Nefrekeptah was buried with all the rites and honors due to the son of Pharaoh in this tomb where he now lies, and where my _Ka_ and the _Ka_ of Merab come to watch over him.'"

The sheltered Egyptian lady had been pushed unexpectedly into a world she had no experience with, but that did not mean she would submit completely to the will of beings larger than herself. She would be brave, not for any god, but for herself. The adventure she had dreamed of within the walls of her childhood nursery had come to the very halls of the palace to reach her, and she would seize the only opportunity her life might offer her.

She slipped her arm lightly out of Humay's with a wavering smile and stood steadily on her own two feet.

°

"But Setna didn't listen to Ahura, did he?" Rick inquired shrewdly as Evelyn wound Ahura's tale to an end.

"Exactly right," Evie beamed tenderly at him. "Have you heard this before?"

He made a humorless noise. "No, but it wouldn't be much of a story if he just went home, now would it?"

"Yes, I guess so. But anyway, the _Ka_ of Nefrekeptah rose to challenge Setna to a game of draughts for the book. Setna sends Anherru for the Amulet of Ptah, and though he loses all the games, he is able to use it to resist the magic of Nefrekeptah and takes the book anyhow. As he is leaving, Nefrekeptah sets a curse on him that he will return the book as a suppliant.

"Eventually, Setna is tricked into falling in love with a beautiful woman and casting out his wife and killing his children--only to discover later that it was all an illusion. Shaken, he returns the book to Nefrekeptah and fulfills the _Ka's_ last wish: to have his wife and child buried with him at Saqqara. And then the tomb is sealed over and hidden so that no one else can ever find it."

"As touching as all this is, Evie," Jonathan picked up the thread of conversation, "there seems to be an awful lot about this Book of Thoth. Are you sure you're not interested in it at all? That you're not searching for another artifact to replace that Book of Ra-thing you lost?"

"That _I_ lost? Jonathan--!"

Rick placed a restraining hand on his wife's shoulder before she clawed her brother's eyes out. "Hold on a second, honey. I want to hear the answer to this one."

She huffed and sat back in her chair, crossing her arms across her chest defensively. "Of course not! The point of the story is that it's survived so long, where it came from--there must have been a real tomb at some point for it to be based on. The whole Book of Thoth idea was probably thought up by someone with a wild imagination when Setna, as a statesman, decided to move the wife and child of some older prince into his tomb and cover it over. He probably was just making room for one of his father's building projects, no magic or books involved at all."

"Well, if it was covered over by this Setna chap, how are we supposed to go about finding it?" Jonathan posed, and Rick nodded his support.

"Easy," Evelyn said with a secretive smile. "We have a map."

"Naturally," Jonathan greeted the revelation wryly. "And how did we come about this map?"

"It was at the British Museum."

"And so they happily handed it over to you, just like that?" Rick added to the inquisition.

"No, but they did lend me their copy of the text of the Book of Thoth myth in the original hieratic. The map was encoded into the text--a simple replacement cipher that's been in use for millennia--and it gave the distances from Dosher's Step Pyramid and the Jubilee Court in cubits. _Someone_ was meant to find the tomb eventually."

Rick sighed, but it was a resigned sound. "I wish you would have told me all this _before_ we left London."

"Indeed," Jonathan joined in heartily. "A haunted ancient Egyptian tomb, a book that may or may not strike us dead, and a map hidden in an old children's story. And _I'm _considered the crazy one in the family."

But Evelyn had fallen silent, not even bothering to shield her goal from their attacks, and Rick reached over to take her hand up gently in his. "Sweetie, you look a little green around the gills there."

She pushed back her chair and gave his fingers a squeeze before disentangling herself. "If you'll excuse me; I don't think I have my sea legs yet."

Rick's eyebrows rose to brush each other as he watched her stagger away at a barely contained run. Memories flashed in his mind's eye: the boat on the Nile, their honeymoon, the trip to England. Something didn't mesh. "Evelyn doesn't get seasick," he announced to no one in particular.

"No," Jonathan agreed almost inaudibly. He hoped that Rick wasn't as dense as he sometimes painted him to be, and he also hoped his sister wouldn't inflict bodily harm on him for saying so much. "Evie doesn't get seasick."

°

"My troops are out your disposal, Lady Nefertiri. We can be ready to leave whenever it pleases you."

"I believe that is _my_ decision to make, Captain," Rameses interrupted the Medjai, "and with the skirmishes on the border recently, I do not believe it would be wise to march an army anywhere that might put our dear friend King Muwatallis on edge."

"I would have to agree," Nefertiri supported her brother, though for her own motives. A whole army for company would certainly put a damper in her sense of freedom and adventure. "One guard would be enough for me to pass undetected through the land. No one should even know that I am gone at all; I can remain locked in my chambers, 'feeling ill'. There is no need to cause unnecessary panic even here in the palace."

"Then I am prepared to leave immediately, if you wish it, my lady." Humay bent his head in deference to her judgment.

Rameses shook his head firmly. "Not you. _I_ need you here."

Humay lifted his head to meet the Pharaoh's eyes, the corners of his mouth dipping into a frown. For a long moment, it appeared as if he was going to contradict the king, but suddenly the muscles in his face relaxed into a neutral expression. Only his eyes were still alive with plans. "Then I know the perfect soldier to send in my place. He will guard the lady's life as his own." He bowed, his body angled towards Nefertiri. "Meet him at sunrise in the courtyard, lady. You will know him when you see him." And he strode swiftly out of the door in ground-eating steps, leaving behind a gaping pair on monarchs.

* * *

The story of the Book of Thoth has been adapted from the translation of the original tale found in _Tales of Ancient Egypt _compiled by Roger Lancelyn Green. Credit where credit is due.

* * *

_**Verona**_: How do you always manage to understand exactly what I'm going for in this story? You're the perfect reviewer!

_**Sheri**_: I am always pleased to satisfy any Jonathan fan since he is the hardest character for me to write. It means that I am doing my job right. And my idea is just as far fetched as any other, but that's what you get when you deal with mummies and such. Hugs and love back at ya!

_**Ann**_: A well-educated view is always appreciated! Thanks for the tip; I'll be sure to keep 'hieroglyphs' in mind!

_**LalaithCat**_: Hopefully you won't be too disappointed that I strayed from the realistic here. 'A haunted ancient Egyptian tomb, a book that may or may not strike us dead, and a map hidden in an old children's story.' I, for one, have never been the sane one in the family, either.

_**Cookie044**_: Thanks bunches! Your review helped me to overcome a massive writer's block. Hopefully the larger update with make up for a longer wait between chapters.


End file.
